


As Fine a Fellow as he Looks

by VivaRocksteady



Series: Influenceverse (Jacob Cozner-Holt AU) [3]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Animal Death, Cheddar is female in this AU, Cheddar's whole life, Dogs, Euthanasia, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Kevin and Ray adopted Jake, Pets, Toddler Jake, hard family talks, pre-teen Jake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24615115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivaRocksteady/pseuds/VivaRocksteady
Summary: Kevin Cozner grew up with dogs. Raymond Holt didn't.--Part of an AU where Ray and Kevin adopted Jake as a baby.
Relationships: Kevin Cozner & Jake Peralta, Kevin Cozner/Ray Holt, Ray Holt & Jake Peralta
Series: Influenceverse (Jacob Cozner-Holt AU) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/708075
Comments: 61
Kudos: 278





	1. Isabelle

**Author's Note:**

> AU notes:  
> \- Cheddar is female in this universe  
> \- Kevin and Ray are roughly 10 or 15 years younger than they are in canon.
> 
> I have about a MILLION fics that I want to write, both in this 'verse and otherwise, and this was not anywhere near the top of my list. However, a few weeks ago my precious, beloved cat passed away, and I have been devastated. So I am channelling my grief into this and getting my sadness all over the fluffiest AU I have. This is going to be a sad and rough fic, despite this fairly fluffy beginning.
> 
> This fic is going to span Cheddar's entire life. I wasn't sure if Cheddar counts as a "major character," hence why I went with "choose not to use warnings" rather than "major character death."

Raymond Holt could not fully picture Kevin Cozner without a dog.

His husband always had a dog, as long as Raymond had known him. When they’d met, Kevin introduced him to an elderly papillon named Isabelle, whom he’d had since he was a teenager. Despite her tiny stature and demure behaviour, Kevin sometimes called her Isabella the She-Wolf, for she was “beautiful, regal, and married to a gay man.” 

Raymond chased Kevin for weeks before they officially became a _thing_. Then, only a month into their relationship, Raymond was there when Kevin had to make the difficult decision to let Isabelle pass. It was the first time Raymond saw Kevin cry, or lose composure in any way. 

It was a bit of a trial, to be honest. Kevin pushed Raymond away after that, needing space to grieve, not ready to allow anything else into his heart lest he suffer the sting of loss once more. He did Raymond the kindness of writing a letter explaining his decision to end their courtship, and giving Raymond his blessing to pursue other men. They had not been courting for very long, after all. They hadn’t even fallen into bed with each other yet, which was almost unheard of for gay men their age, if they were to believe the gossip amongst their peers.

But Raymond had found himself unwilling to return to his pre-Kevin life so soon. He was not oblivious to his many options. Despite being a police officer, an occupation seemingly at war with the gay community of the ‘90s, he knew he was, as the kids would say, a _catch_. But he was picky. He wanted Kevin.

Raymond had grown up showing and receiving almost no outward affection to or from his mother. He knew, of course, that she loved him deeply. It just wasn’t their way to show it to each other in things like words or hugs or laughter or tears. That burden fell exclusively to his younger sister, Debbie. 

Mother hadn’t even cried when Father died, and neither had Raymond. At least, not where the other could see. Debbie cried, wailing loudly, beating her little fists on the floor and demanding Daddy’s return. But she was only three at the time. When she got older, she barely remembered the tragedy at all. 

Kevin was a grown man. Raymond had never had a connection with another man like that, especially not so fast. Accompanying a lover to a veterinarian’s office and holding him while he sobbed in anguish was not something for which Raymond had any applicable skills. But, to his surprise, he did not mind doing it. He got a glimpse of just how deep and strong a grown man’s love could be. He wanted to feel that way.

So he promptly wrote Kevin back, indicating that he would wait as long as Kevin wanted, and that Kevin should feel no pressure in responding.

“You should get him a new dog!!!” Debbie shouted excitedly on one of her wine-soaked city-and-brother visits. She was 21, and she lived like it. Down from Sarah Lawrence for the weekend, which usually meant one night of wild carousing with her high school girlfriends, one night of gay bars and heavy drinking with Ray, and one quiet, hungover Sunday lunch with Mother. 

But there were no gays bars that night. Ray was too morose. “I absolutely _will not_ give him another dog,” he slurred, addled from Debbie’s regrettably cheap wine. So addled he sat directly on the floor, in fact, decorum completely abandoned to the wind. He was 27 and depressingly single, and worst, pining for a man he’d only dated briefly.

“Why noooooot,” Debbie whined, rolling about dramatically and drunkenly on the floor.

“He is in mourning,” said Raymond. “He is not even ready to court, much less have another canine companion.”

“Maybe that’s just what he told you,” Debbie said into the floorboards. “So he wouldn’t have to dump you for real.”

Raymond said nothing. 

“And it would be sooooo cute,” Debbie went on. “And romantic! Put a big velvet bow on a puppy. It’ll be like a Kay’s commercial! _Every kiss begins with Kaaaay._ ”

Then she got up, sprinted to his bathroom, and vomited. 

The next morning, she sheepishly apologized for her drunken words, which was a worryingly common occurrence for Debbie. “I’m sure he wasn’t just saying that. You’re right. He probably does need space.” 

Raymond, aching in the head, just stared at his plain toast, with no appetite to eat it.

Debbie bit into cold pizza she had ordered the night before and left open on the counter. “Definitely _don’t_ get him a dog. That would be some insane romcom stalker shit.” 

“I was not planning on it,” said Raymond. “I am quite inured to your disastrous romantic advice while intoxicated.” 

Debbie barked a laugh. She leaned her elbows on the counter and eyed him while she ate more pizza. “You don’t have to wait, though,” she finally said. “You’ve still got your life to live. Get out there, get down with your bad self.”

Her sober romantic advice was always better than her intoxicated romantic advice, so he took it. He took his bad self on several dates, but they were all, regrettably, as Debbie would put it, _duds_. At least when Raymond compared them to Kevin, which he did, frequently and unfavourably.

About three months after he last saw Kevin, Raymond sat down to do the New York Times crossword puzzle, and soon realized all the answers were dog-themed. _Star on the heels of Orion_ (Sirius,) and _The most loyal in all Shibuya_ (Hachiko,) and _Welsh guardian of babes_ (Gelert.) When Raymond got stuck on a clue— _as fine a fellow as he looks_ — Raymond picked up the phone and called Kevin, without even realizing it. 

It was the first of several embarrassments of knowledge when Kevin informed him that _as fine a fellow as he looks_ meant Odysseus’ loyal dog Argos— obviously! Together, they worked out the rest of the puzzle in roughly twelve minutes before broaching the elephant in the room.

“I wasn’t ready to call you, and I was certain you’d have moved on,” said Kevin. “But I’m very glad you called me instead.”


	2. Ginsberg

Kevin, while perhaps quick let Raymond back into his life, was still guarded about another dog. He looked after friends’ and colleagues’ dogs when they were away, which gave Raymond, hitherto a dog novice, a good crash course in how to care for them.

Raymond was surprised to learn, for instance, just how very unique and rich in personality each dog could be, even if they were all similar in so many ways.

It was in this period when Raymond’s perception of Kevin as “always with a dog” fully solidified. He was so much happier when taking care of a dog, as if that were his natural state of being. 

They moved in together after about a year of courtship. Shortly thereafter, they got an unexpected roommate in the form of Kevin’s younger brother. Raymond and Kevin had bonded over both being older brothers to significantly younger siblings, but the facts of their families were otherwise very dissimilar. 

Kevin’s relationship with his WASPy Connecticut parents was contentious, to say the least. They were still in regular contact with each other, but the only real safe topic of discussion was “the pups.” Kevin’s family were firmly dog people, with always at least two or three at the house, and why should their sons be any different? They had a veritable cottage industry of Scottish terriers on the go, perpetuating the next generation. When sixteen-year-old Kevin adopted his friend’s papillon puppy, Isabelle, it was his first real act of rebellion.

Kevin’s younger brother Martin, while wholly supportive of Kevin’s lifestyle, had been given a unique burden in the past years. He’d always been the overprotected baby of the family, and was made to endure living at home to receive his parents’ financial support for dentist school, which was one of the most expensive types of education, and apparently not really Martin’s idea to begin with.

When Kevin came out as gay to his already-critical parents, disastrously, with Raymond by his side, Martin took on the additional burden of now having to fulfill _everything_ his parents had wanted out of both sons. To their view, Kevin’s corruption in the city was just further proof that Martin needed to be even more constrained.

Perhaps that’s why, when Martin saw the news story that a veritable hoard of dogs had been seized from some decrepit house, he rushed out and adopted one. Ginsberg (the name itself another dig at his parents) was a traumatized, mixed-breed, not terribly attractive behemoth, the antithesis of the refined terriers the family had kept. And he was entirely too much dog for Martin to handle.

Several fights later, many of which were surrogate fights for the bigger, ongoing fight about Martin’s lack of control in his life, and resentment for how they’d treated Kevin, Martin packed his things, muzzled his dog, and got on a train to the city.

That’s how Martin landed on their doorstep in the rain, with a dog of indeterminate breed that was almost as big as he was.

Kevin didn’t even balk. He lit up at the sight of Ginsberg. If Raymond wasn’t already sure Kevin had fallen in love with him, he’d be a little jealous.

Ginsberg needed a lot of work. He was anxious, which made him seem angry. The sight of other dogs made him furious/frightened, he was bitterly jealous of his food to the point of making himself sick, and he was wary of every new person he met. Spending the first year of his life in an unhygienic, crowded hoarder house, and the next four months of life in a house with three argumentative, if well-spoken, redheads, had not been beneficial for his young dog brain.

Kevin was a paragon of patience. He worked miracles with that dog, until no one would have even guessed that Ginsberg had ever been mistreated.

The behemoth started sleeping in their room, on his own bed. He went to work with Kevin, who positively glowed with love.

Kevin’s patience rubbed off on Raymond as well. He’d been a brash young detective, more than once disciplined for his recklessness, driven by a double hit of insecurity that made him feel the need to be the best, the fastest, the most, unquestionably flawless.

Raymond despaired of Ginsberg at first, at this slobbering beast in their home. It was up to Kevin to show him how to listen, and how to see that this aggressive, sometimes destructive living creature was really just scared and overwhelmed, had really just been made to endure too much.

Raymond wouldn’t admit it, but he took this to heart and took it work. He slowed down, reacted less, and listened more. It made him a better detective.

Martin lived with them for almost an entire year until he sorted himself out. By then, Ginsberg was thoroughly Kevin’s dog. He had long since stopped needing a muzzle, though he almost always wore the harness attached to a short handle to be quickly guided by Kevin. He tolerated other dogs enough to be able to have a dog walker when Kevin couldn’t take him to work.

When they bought their house in Park Slope, with the little back garden, Ginsberg was already well past middle aged. He was overjoyed to have a private outdoor space without any other dogs around to bother him. Kevin, in turn, was overjoyed for Ginsberg, and Raymond was happy when Kevin was happy.

To their surprise, Ginsberg made friends with the neighbour’s fluffy, imperial cat, Sonja. She made the first overtures by sitting on their shared fence at dusk and dawn, cleaning her face and taking no notice of Ginsberg as he stared up at her, enthralled. Once or twice he would make inquisitive not-quite-barking noises, and she would pointedly ignore him. Notably, Raymond thought, she never just left. It was a little like the way Kevin had made Raymond chase him during their courtship.

After a week or two, Sonja finally deigned to emerge from a hole in the fence. Ginsberg treated her with total deference, and soon the two would curl up together on hot days in the sun. In the winter, their visits were briefer, but most days still included at least one.

Over eight years after getting Ginsberg, Raymond met a six-month-old child named Jacob Peralta, who was about to become a ward of the state.

Nine years old is a respectable age for Rottweilers, which is what Ginsberg looked the most like, Raymond came to understand. Especially if they had such a hard start, like Ginsberg did. He was clearly a senior dog, visibly old and droopy and shuffling, but not suffering from any particular ailment with any particular treatment.

After much talk, Raymond and Kevin officially put in their application to adopt Jacob. It was a Saturday afternoon, and they had just sent off the paperwork. They decided to celebrate with brandy in their garden, giddy with excitement and apprehension. Ginsberg was out there, curled up with Sonja in their customary spot in the sun. 

They drank and cuddled and talked and made plans, imagining what it would be like to have a child. Sonja soon went back through her hole in the fence, and Ginsberg shuffled over to them, settling himself down and crossing his paws in front of him. 

After some more idle talk, Ginsberg yawned, making one of his happy, squeaky yawn sounds. They looked at him, and he stared back at them, panting happily, mouth open wide as if he was smiling.

Then he had a seizure, and died. 

\--

Kevin handled himself well in a crisis. He knew Ginsberg was dead. He didn't do anything drastic. They wrapped Ginsberg in his favourite dog blanket and Raymond drove them to the vet. Kevin was already crying, but it was the resigned sort of crying that Raymond had seen often at trials. Family members had a way of sniffling quietly, especially the mothers, already accepting the fate of their loved one, if not with a little resentment.

It was afterwards that it hit Kevin hard. He spent all Sunday in the back garden, staring at the spot where Ginsberg used to sleep, weeping intermittently. Sonja came out through her hole, and looked around curiously. She sat in the spot Kevin was staring at. They just looked at each other for a few minutes, and then Sonja went back to her own garden.

Raymond didn't say anything. He just sat with Kevin and replenished his tea every now and then. 

"I think he knew," Kevin finally said. "He made room for us." His voice broke, and he covered his face with his hands, sobbing freely.

Raymond gathered Kevin in his arms and hugged him, far more demonstrative than they ever were in public, even in the back garden. He said nothing, because he couldn't find himself in agreement with Kevin. Ginsberg was just a dog, who had had a hard life, and was fairly old. 

\--

Raymond did not cry.

\--

Mrs. Larson, the self-proclaimed cat lady and widow next door, Sonja's owner, treated it as if a person had died. She brought over home-made casseroles in tinfoil containers, and stayed for an hour, having tea with Kevin.

"You cry as much as you need to cry," she said, while Kevin sniffled. "I know exactly how it feels." 

"It's like each one gets harder," Kevin mumbled, his voice strained. He'd lost at least three childhood terriers growing up, unless Raymond was forgetting another one.

"Oh, honey, I know," said Mrs. Larson. "It hurts so much each time. And we all loved Ginsberg. Sonja's been depressed, too."

Raymond, of course, could scarcely believe that. Sonja was a cat, and from where Raymond was standing, cats cared little for anyone but themselves. 

Kevin also had Martin to lean on. Martin came over for dinner, and after the meal, Raymond quietly excused himself, letting the brothers drink and talk late into the night. They had a lot to talk about, Raymond knew. Ginsberg had been Martin's dog, too, and there was so much baggage in their family in regards to dogs and their parents and each other. Kevin never came to bed, and in the morning Raymond found them both asleep in the parlour, Kevin primly slumped on the couch, Martin sprawled out on the floor.

Raymond was still sure Ginsberg hadn't _known_ the hour of his death. 

But he would concede that it was better that _this_ sort of thing wasn't happening when the baby was here.

\--

After two months without Ginsberg, Raymond and Kevin were consumed with preparations for bringing Jacob home. There were more hoops they had to jump through than they anticipated, through their regular visits with Jacob in his foster home certainly helped with the ever-present anxiety. 

Debbie came in from the Bronx one weekend, with what she called a _butt-load_ of nursery planning materials. She screamed when they opened the door for her, and she threw her arms around both of them in succession.

"I can't believe my big brother is having a bay-beeeee!" she shouted, a wall of happy noise, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. "Oh my gaaaaaaahd! I have _SO_ many ideas for the nursery!! I brought all those onesies I made for my baby clothes business. Ugh, Ray, I have _so_ much to tell you about my so-called business partner Louise. Girl loves her draaaama.” Debbie stopped short, already halfway down the hall to the kitchen. "Where's Ginsy?!" 

Kevin coughed uncomfortably. "I'm afraid Ginsberg passed away." 

"Whaaat? KEVIN!" Debbie looked absolutely distraught, eyes already wide and wet with tears. She rushed back and threw her arms around Kevin again, squeezing him tight. "Baby, I am _so sorry!_ "

Kevin didn't shrug his way out of her embrace. He just lowered his head.

"When did this happen?" 

Now it was Raymond's turn to cough uncomfortably. "Two months ago."

Debbie turned on him sharply. "What?" 

Kevin swiped his arm across his eyes.

"Ray, can I talk to you?" Debbie didn't wait for an answer, flouncing into the parlour.

"I'll take your bags to the guest room," said Kevin.

In the parlour, Debbie put her hands on his hips and stared Raymond down. “Why didn’t you tell me about Ginsy?” 

Raymond, for once, was at a loss for words. He hadn’t thought Debbie and Ginsberg were that close? 

“I did not think it was a pressing matter,” he decided to say.

Debbie recoiled. “Not a _pressing matter?_ Raymond Jacob Holt, did you just try and tell me that your dog dying isn’t _that big of a deal?_ ”

She stared at him. He dropped his gaze. 

“You _loved_ that dog,” she said. “Ray. Aren’t you sad?”

“Of course I’m sad,” he snapped.

Debbie looked at him mournfully. “It’s Dad all over again, isn’t it?” She sniffled, and got close to him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head on his shoulder.

Raymond stiffened, and frowned. He thought Debbie couldn’t remember their father.

That night, Raymond sat up in bed with one of the books from their extensive pre-adoption reading list. Their adoption binder sat neatly on the side table, the day’s tasks having been dutifully checked off.

Kevin was quiet, and got into bed with his own bit of required reading. 

"Are you disappointed with my response to Ginsberg's death?" Raymond asked. 

Kevin looked surprised. "Heavens, no," he said. "Everyone grieves in their own way."

"Debbie seems to think I should be more demonstrative,” said Raymond. 

“Well, I imagine Debbie would expect nothing less than torn garments and wailing at a tomb with ashes in your hair,” Kevin said dryly. He put his book aside, and lay down fully, smoothing the blanket over himself.

For a long time, the room was silent. 

“The list of things in my life that I love is very short,” Raymond said, hesitantly. “Despite how it may seem, Ginsberg was on that list.” 

“Oh, Raymond,” Kevin sighed. He patted Raymond’s hand. Took a long pause. “Ginsberg wasn’t really yours. You just lived with him. He was mine. And Martin’s, in quite an important way. But mostly mine. I loved him the most, so the weight of grief will be mostly mine. That’s the way love works.” 

—

Raymond woke before anyone else the next morning, and had his coffee alone in the back garden. 

Sonja sat on her spot on the fence, hunched over, her fluffy tail hanging down listlessly. She ignored him until he stood quite close to her. He wasn’t the type to make inane noises at an animal, so instead he said, “Good morning, Sonja.”

She looked over at him. He held out his hand for her to sniff. 

Her eyes flicked down to his hand, then up at his face. Then she turned away, with the general air of someone rolling their eyes. She showed him her bottom, and hopped down the fence into her own back garden.


	3. Jacob

It was almost spring when they finally brought Jacob home, and he was almost a whole year old. The adoption process was long and arduous. Karen Peralta was on board with the adoption, in the end, but she took a while to make up her mind about it, which was to be expected, Raymond supposed. 

This meant that Jacob lived in a foster home for several months. It was, as these things go, a pretty fantastic foster home. The parents were experienced and committed and knew exactly what they were doing. But Jacob, barely a year old, didn't know anything. 

He cried and wailed for three nights straight.

The fact that they had visited him so frequently and spent so much time with him helped, certainly. They weren't total strangers. But Jacob had gotten used to his foster home, and attached to his foster mother, and threw tantrums that Raymond hadn’t even been aware toddlers were capable of throwing.

Kevin and Raymond had prepared rigorously. They had read every book that existed on the subject, had made countless footnotes and annotations, had spoken to any knowledgable person they could find. And they had argued, a lot, about which of these theoretical parenting methods would be best. 

What it came down to, in the end, was their instincts. All they could do was give Jacob attention, and affection, and hold him when he needed it, which was not as easy a condition to parse out as it seemed. 

On the fourth day, after Jacob had finally, _finally_ drifted off to sleep, Raymond found Kevin slumped in the kitchen, head in hand, not even a glass of wine at his elbow.

Kevin looked up when Raymond came in, and wiped at his face.

“You’re crying,” said Raymond, taken back.

Kevin only sighed. He had been at once so elated when Jacob finally came home, but the busyness of the past few months had not diluted his grief for Ginsberg. And now he was sleep-deprived, with a child who seemed to not want him.

"He's confused," Kevin finally said, with a resigned little shrug. “He misses his foster mother, and he probably misses his biological mother. He's grieving." 

"Is this about Jacob, or is this about Ginsberg?" asked Raymond. 

Kevin looked away, and was quiet a moment. “I love Jacob,” he said, his voice low. “I know the love is there. But it’s raw, and it hurts. I think it hurts for him, too.” He gazed up at Raymond forlornly. “Unfortunately, I do not know where that leaves you.”

Raymond knelt before his husband, and put his hands on Kevin’s dear waist. “It leaves me with the honour of supporting you in whatever way you need me.” 

Weary as they were, they kissed.

—

Despite Kevin’s fear, despite the rawness of his love, Jacob attached to him a lot faster than he did to Raymond. He was still wary of Raymond, often wailing in the exact same way he had when Raymond first held him at the crime scene where they'd met. 

"Make eye contact with him," Kevin would advise, when it was Raymond's turn to change the toddler's diaper.

And while Jacob was very much a toddler, crawling fast and sometimes even walking-- walking as far away from Raymond as he could get-- he acted in a lot of ways like he was younger. They had read about this, and were academically prepared for it, and knew that it might persist for a long time.

He had been hitting all his milestones at the foster family, and had a respectable vocabulary of about eight distinct words. But he wouldn’t say as many as eight words in his new home, not at first. He said mostly things like “Up,” and “Play!” But mostly "NOOOOOO!!!!" in an ear-piercing shriek. 

Kevin's parental leave was longer than Raymond's, which was, to put it mildly, pathetically short. But part of Raymond was relieved to get back to work, to get away from what now seemed like a too-small house with a too-small child and a perpetual mess. 

This new form of separation, however, set Jacob back again. He lost his paltry words, and would wail in seeming unending anguish. He was fickle, sometimes reaching out to Raymond to be held and bounced and cuddled, and soon again struggling and pushing away. It took him another two weeks to get used to the fact that Raymond would go away for long stretches of the day. 

Raymond found himself, sometimes, getting irrationally irate. This would’ve been easier if they hadn’t had to wait so long. Jacob wouldn’t have gotten so attached to a family in-between, wouldn’t have to have been so disrupted and confused. And he found that, as a new father, this feeling of righteous resentment was stronger than anything he’d felt remotely like it. 

But the resentment wouldn’t help him achieve anything, would it? 

It was like Ginsberg, Raymond had to tell himself. It had taken over six months for Ginsberg to entirely adjust to his new life, to trust them, and to know he wasn't in danger. He could hardly expect a child to adjust as quickly as a dog, could he? 

Jacob did adjust quickly, though, quicker than six months. He was full of love and eager to give it, once he'd finished grieving for his foster home. He was still behind in some ways, and when it came to affection and discipline, they almost treated him as if he were still a newborn, with nothing but gentle tones, and gentle touch, and lots and lots of cuddling. 

Cuddling didn't come naturally to Raymond. Kevin wasn't the most exuberantly affectionate person around, either, which is one of the things Raymond initially liked about him, but it was, for whatever reason, easier for him to be physically affectionate towards Jacob. 

Kevin encouraged Raymond. Eye contact whenever they interacted, lots of gentle touches on the arm and back and head, and holding and hugging whenever Jacob was receptive. It was Raymond's nature to resist such directives, but given that Kevin's advice was backed up by all the reading they both had done, he put in the effort. 

He was rewarded when Jacob started warming up to him, too. Soon they had a morning routine whereby Raymond would feed Jacob in the early morning before work. They still sometimes bottle fed him in their arms as if he was a baby, as their adoption books had advised for a toddler with prior attachment disruptions, though he was more frequently tolerant of holding the bottle and feeding himself. Raymond would feed Jacob, and then carry him downstairs and out into the garden. 

Jacob would babble contentedly, enjoying the affection. He'd reach out and touch whatever he could touch, talking all the while. He was up to roughly thirty distinct words now, which was, according to Raymond's understanding, a superior vocabulary. 

(Though Debbie said she thought Raymond was hearing words where there was just babble. She especially disagreed that Jacob had ever said "Haydn" when they were enjoying some music in the parlour one evening while she was visiting. But Raymond, hearing the request, had put on Haydn's Oboe Concerto in C Major, and Jacob had toddled about the room, babbling excitedly at Debbie as if telling her all about the piece. 

"He likes the oboe," said Raymond.

Debbie didn't even respond, just giving him a dramatic eye roll and a flick of her hand. She was obviously silenced by the truth of his statement.)

One morning in the garden, Sonja was back on her perch on the fence. She had been scarce during the winter, after Ginsberg's death, with little to attract her to visit the Cozner-Holt family. Now, she had the same disinterested look on her face as usual as she watched Raymond carry his son around the garden.

When Jacob saw her, he reached out, flexing both hands. "Caa, caa!" 

"Yes, Jacob, that's a cat." Raymond brought Jacob over, stepping slowly, giving the cat a lot of time to retreat. "Her name is Sonja."

"Caaaa," Jacob grinned.

"Gently now," Raymond cautioned. 

He eased Jacob just close enough that the toddler could barely touch her fur. Sonja didn't even twitch, looking at Jacob curiously. 

Jacob giggled at the feeling of soft fur. Raymond brought him another half inch closer, reaching out to pet Sonja himself, to show Jacob how to do it. “You see? Gently." 

Sonja sat up and pushed her nose into Raymond's palm, purring. 

Jacob mimicked Raymond closely, putting his tiny hand against Sonja's fur for a pet.

Sonja watched him stroke her clumsily, and probably ineffectually. She leaned down to sniff at his hand, and then gave it a little lick.

Jacob shrieked with delighted laughter. Sonja put her ears back and scurried a few feet away from them, still on the fence, but out of reach. She hurriedly cleaned the spot where Jacob had petted her.

Jacob babbled something that had the cadence of a sentence, but wasn’t quite words. He clutched at Raymond’s shoulders, and ended the sentence with a repetition of “Da, Da, Da, Da!” 

The boy’s laughter was infectious. And Raymond had heard so many anguished, fearful sobs from him in the past few months, that the sound of such unbridled joy almost undid him.

—

Sometimes in the evenings, Kevin and Raymond, weary as they were, would stand over their son’s crib and watch him sleep. 

“Raymond,” Kevin breathed one night. “His little curls just murder me.”

Raymond chuckled. “Me, as well.”

Kevin leaned over the cradle and brushed Jacob’s curls back, giving him a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You may blame Aphrodite, soft as she is,” he whispered. “She has almost killed me with love for that boy.” 

“Sappho,” said Raymond, as they left Jacob’s room. “Interesting choice.”

Kevin lay his head on Raymond’s shoulder. “I am too tired of think of anything else.”

—

It was easy for others to tell how their family came to be, when they were out and about with each other. Kevin and Raymond were well-known in the neighbourhood, and Jacob looked not a whit like either of them. Kevin had no problems when he was out alone with Jacob. Raymond didn’t have any problems, per se, but he caught the odd look. Even then, there were more unfamiliar sights to see in Park Slope, and they were left alone. 

While Jacob kept finding new ways to disrupt the routine they stubbornly tried to adhere to— a sudden appearance of night terrors, a sudden fear of the bath tub, a sudden dislike of any fruits or vegetables— they did their best to make daily moments of family time a priority, and on Sundays, to take a family day out.

Jacob was a charmer, and easily won the hearts of all the neighbourhood ladies. His curls and long lashes were oft complimented, and his eagerness to engage in babbling play conversations with everyone and anyone was always well received.

To Kevin’s delight, he was naturally good with animals. 

There were friendly dogs and friendly dog owners in the park on Sundays, and over several weekends, Kevin introduced Jacob to many dogs. Jacob, by now an old hand at gently petting Sonja, who had resumed her visits to their back garden when the sun was in the right spot, was just as gentle with the new dogs. But when they showed an eagerness to run and play with him, he was overjoyed, and so was Kevin.

One such afternoon, when Jacob was all tuckered out after an afternoon in the park and sleeping soundly in his stroller as they walked back home, Kevin smiled coquettishly and suggested they get tea at one of their favourite bistros. They hadn’t had such a date-like encounter since they had brought Jacob home, and the bistro had their patio out, complete with flowers on the table, and a bowl of water on the ground for the dogs.

Jacob napped right through it, even after Kevin fussed about with the stroller to make sure he was in the shade. 

“Martin’s new girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend’s dog had puppies a few weeks ago,” he said, after some very pleasant small talk about things that weren’t Jacob.

“Oh?” 

“They’re corgis,” said Kevin. “You like corgis.”

“Do I?” Raymond sat back and studied Kevin’s face, which was lighting up in a way it hadn’t in a long time, because it only lit up that way when dogs were involved.

“Yes, you said to me in Paris that you liked their fluffy bottoms.”

“I am quite sure I said no such thing.” 

“I'm quite sure you did,” said Kevin, crossing one leg over the other with distinction. “They’re about five weeks old. In a few weeks they’ll be ready to leave their mother.” 

“So you think we should adopt a puppy?” Raymond clarified. “But surely Jacob is a bit young.”

“Jacob is already good with animals,” said Kevin. “And I had dogs at his age. Younger, even. Pets are good for children.” 

“Sometimes,” said Raymond.

“Sometimes,” conceded Kevin. “But I’m more than experienced in raising puppies. And our once-beautiful house is already a mess, so we might as well have a puppy now.” He looked down at their son, smiling softly.

“I just worry,” said Raymond, “that it’s a bit fast. After Ginsberg. For you.”

Kevin blinked, and kept his gaze on Jacob, as his smile faded. He said nothing for a while, but he swallowed, and Raymond knew. He knew how grief was like a sore in one’s mouth, forgotten for a time, then remembered with a searing stab. It came unannounced, then left again, unpredictable in all ways except its misery. 

“Jacob met you when he needed you,” Kevin said, with a refined little sniffle. “And Ginsberg arrived when he needed us. Now there’s puppies. Families do not tend to happen on a timeline, do they?” 

Kevin put his hand on the table, and Raymond put his next to it, almost touching, a rare public display of affection. 

Kevin didn’t have to give it such a hard sell. Raymond would do anything for Kevin. And he knew that for Kevin, their family would only _really_ be complete if they had a dog.


	4. Richard and Dan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IDK man this thing is getting long!

Martin’s new girlfriend was an idiot, and the look on Kevin’s face indicated that he agreed, but Raymond still kept the sentiment to himself. 

Her ex-boyfriend’s corgi, Blossom, was a dog they had adopted and raised together, so it was still sort of her dog. This made Martin a step-father, of sorts, and all three had been involved in watching over Blossom’s pregnancy like one of these new-age triad families that were springing up all over Brooklyn. 

In the last two weeks, between work and Jacob, Raymond had scarcely any time to research corgis as much as he would have liked. But his speed reading had come in handy, at least a little. He saw immediately that Blossom was a "mis-mark," with too much white in her coat, unsuitable for showing, and that a serious breeder would not have bred her. But Martin's ex-girlfriend's old boyfriend wasn’t a breeder. He had simply allowed her to have relations with a neighbour's corgi, and her puppies were all healthy and beautiful, if not themselves show-worthy. 

Blossom had a litter of four. Four red/yellow/white, fluffy, wriggling, yipping little things, who, to an unread simpleton, might all look alike. But Raymond could tell the differences.

There was the first born, Brie, who took after her mother in her classic red, yellow, and white colouring, but with a few too many splotches of white for her to compete on the dog show circuit. Then there was her brother Brioche, the only male in the litter, whose slight smoky overtones to his red markings indicated that his father may have been just as "mis-marked" as his mother, though he was certainly a handsome little fellow. 

The runt of the litter was Crouton, a very excitable and yippy female who had almost perfect colour patterns... but not compared to Cheddar, the third-delivered puppy, and in Raymond's view, the closest that any of these puppies got to corgi perfection.

Martin's new girlfriend didn't seem to care about any of these variations. "Aren't they, like, soooo cute, Kevin?" She fairly screeched. "Here!" She grabbed one seemingly at random, and plopped the poor thing into Kevin's hands.

The puppy, who had as good-natured a smile on her face as any puppy has had, gave Kevin some affectionate licks. "She is quite cute," Kevin agreed.

"Pup! Pup!" Jacob cried, trying to reach up from his stroller. 

"That one's Cheddar," said the new girlfriend's ex-boyfriend. He knelt by Blossom's side, while Blossom watched her puppies frolic and thumped her tail contentedly, but he kept a wary eye on Martin and the girlfriend. They were cooing over Brie, and making rather insipid noises at her.

"Daaaaa," Jacob whined. "Pup!!!!"

"Yes, Jacob," Raymond said. He didn't wish to let Jacob run amok in a stranger's apartment, no matter how clean and well-appointed it was. There were simply too many unknown unknowns. 

So he and Kevin knelt by Jacob's stroller, and Kevin set Cheddar on the ground. She snuffled around the stroller while Jacob wriggled and babbled. Then she propped herself up on his legs and sniffed at his face. Jacob laughed, and something in Raymond's chest surged. 

Kevin gave Cheddar a gentle pat. "Well, Raymond," he said. "I think we've found the one."

\--

There had never been any question about whose dog Ginsberg really was. He was Kevin's, entirely. With Cheddar it wasn't quite like that. 

It was Kevin that made the arrangements with his brother's new girlfriend's ex-boyfriend, certainly; it was Kevin that found the vet to bring Cheddar for her first check-ups and vaccinations. It was he who decided on the best dog foods, who purchased all the beds and crates and toys and anything else she might need (the things they had left over from Ginsberg were often not the appropriate size, and it was Kevin who donated those.) 

It was also Kevin who made sure that Cheddar got all the training and attention and exercise she needed, and Cheddar, in turn, adored Kevin. Like Jacob, it took her longer to come around to Raymond. If he'd been unprepared for a small child, he was just as unprepared for a small puppy, and often the noise undid him, driving him to take long walks by himself for solace.

So for the first few months, or even the first year, it seemed that Cheddar, too, would be primarily Kevin's dog, and not Raymond's. 

But of course the truth was that she was really Jacob's.

The two soon became inseparable. They both had inexhaustible energy, and would spend vast amounts of time chasing each other in the back garden. When Sonja came by for her infrequent visits, she was bombarded by an exuberant ball of youthful energy on two sides, and she didn't often stay very long. 

—

Because of Jacob’s chaotic early life, and of the slight delays he'd experienced, Raymond and Kevin had kept him at home for longer than was considered normal in their peer group. They had tried to bring him to daycare when he was two, but it didn’t work out. At three, he was still at home all day. They had to make an effort to socialize him to other young children via play dates set up through their work colleagues. (Well, Kevin's work colleagues, primarily. Raymond's colleagues were certainly kinder towards his personal life than they had been in previous years, but Kevin was still largely... uncomfortable with them.) 

Mostly, Kevin worked from home, on a reduced schedule, so Jacob could get the extra attention he needed. This meant Cheddar also grew up to be incredibly well-trained, and with her around to entertain their son, Kevin had a bit more time to work. 

They all really got along without Raymond there most of the time, to be completely honest.

Eventually, the privilege afforded to Kevin through his work ran out, and he was obliged to return to longer hours in the office. This led to a terse and difficult discussion where it was agreed, grudgingly on Raymond's part, that he would work the night shift until Jacob was "caught up" enough that they could put him in daycare. 

They had a specialist that the pediatrician had recommended. She agreed that waiting two months until a new daycare cohort started was the best thing, with therapeutic playgroups in the meantime, but mostly lots of one-on-one at home with his fathers.

While Raymond was hesitant about this temporary shift, his superiors were quite pleased with it. They always needed good officers for night shift, and they all wanted to see less of Raymond. 

He vociferously resented this turn of events. He'd toiled ceaselessly over the years to build a career in a field where nobody wanted him, and making himself less visible to his superiors for the sake of his child was a hard pill to swallow. He was trepidatious of a spiralling career. 

Raymond took pride, however, in keeping his cards close to his chest, and hardly anyone at work would have noticed. But some people did have a way of reading him. Especially noxious, slimy toads like Madeleine Wuntch.

"You're like a whining little weasel,” she sneered. “A face like the ass-end of a jackass. Too hard to choose between work and family? Maybe you aren't cut out for this, toots. But thanks for handing me all that plum face time with the boss.” What a noxious, slimy toad.

On the specialist’s advice, Jacob was in a twice-weekly playgroup facilitated by the Columbia University daycare, but rather counterintuitively, those two days were about all he could take of other children at this age. 

While Jacob had an impressive vocabulary, and charmed every adult around him, when he was with other children his own age, his developmental delays became more apparent. Much as Jacob loved meeting new people, and making new friends, and talking, and playing, he could quite easily turn on a dime and become overwhelmed. He could throw massive, sometimes destructive tantrums. Sharing and taking turns were also problems for him— perhaps a rational response after losing his original home, and then his caring foster home, all before he was twelve months old. 

The two days he was at playgroup are the two days Ray would catch up on sleep and exercise. He'd come home from work just as Kevin was leaving with Jacob and Cheddar, as the dog would stay at Kevin’s office with him on those days. Raymond would eat the breakfast Kevin had left for him, and enjoy precious, quiet alone time. Later, he’d pick Jacob up from the playgroup, and they'd both sleep until Kevin came home. Then Raymond would keep sleeping until it was time for a nutrient bar, and work.

The days Jacob wasn't in his playgroup, Raymond would come home from a long night of work, eat the meal Kevin had prepared for him, and then spend the next eight hours entertaining a very exhausting child who was the textbook defintion of the terrible twos, even though he was three. 

Jacob had grown exponentially in size. So had Cheddar, though they were both still small enough to hold— and luckily, Cheddar always would be. She was an adult now, if still young and playful and outright silly. She had naughty little habits involving sneaking food, and getting into Kevin's sweaters when she felt he wasn't paying her enough attention. 

But compared to Jacob, she was the very model of good behaviour. And, as a herding dog, she was protective and watchful of him, always nearby to herd him away from danger. So it wasn’t dealing with the dog that wore Raymond out when he was on night shift.

Mostly what Raymond found exhausting was that Jacob didn't enjoy any kind of quiet, sedentary types of play. He mostly loved to play make-believe, acting out elaborate scenarios that made little sense to any adult listening. Cheddar was always an eager participant, tolerating it when Jacob would try to dress her up. 

"Jakey is knight," Jacob proclaimed one afternoon. He wore a little plastic knight’s helm, and waved a rubber toy sword. Both were from a cheap set that Debbie had purchased for him, despite Raymond's deliberately stated rule that there would be no petroleum by-products in his child's toy chest. Jacob pointed at Cheddar, who had one of Kevin's pink pashmina scarves draped loosely around her. "Prin-thess Cheddar." Brandished his sword at Raymond. "Daddy ogre."

"An ogre?" Raymond asked, astonished.

Jacob nodded emphatically.

"Why aren't I the king? Or at the very least, some kind of vizier?" Raymond asked in mock offense. 

Jacob shook his head, which meant he swivelled his entire body from side to side. "Ogre!" 

"Very well," Raymond sighed. "I suppose I have captured the fair Princess Cheddar?" He sat on the floor in front of Cheddar, still fairly towering over his son.

"Uh-huh," said Jacob. 

"And how do you plan on rescuing her?"

"Jakey slay ogre!" Jacob shouted. He rushed at Raymond.

Raymond let Jacob collide into him, then very gently pushed him back. 

Jacob flailed. "Jakey slay ogre!" he shouted.

"But I am a very mighty ogre," Raymond intoned. "I'm impervious to little boys with little swords."

Jacob's jaw dropped, and Raymond tensed for a tantrum.

Their specialist had said they should encourage more collaborative play in Jacob. While he was incredibly creative and inventive, he was also inordinately bossy, and at his playgroup, this inability to let other children have their say in their play sessions sometimes ended in disaster. Raymond and Kevin were supposed to gently encourage Jacob to have more give and take.

Mostly, Raymond had been too tired on his days with Jacob to do anything besides half-heartedly let Jacob play out his make believe games around him, and do whatever Jacob said. But, though it hurt to essentially deny Jacob's wishes like this, he knew he had to try at least once this week.

"Perhaps," Raymond said, softening his tone a bit, “brave Sir Jacob can find a different way to defeat the ogre." 

Jacob's brow furrowed. He bit his lip. "Ummmmmm," he hummed loudly.

At Raymond's elbow, Cheddar nuzzled up against him, and gave him a lick.

"Ah!" Raymond startled, pulling his arm away. 

Jacob lit up. "Daddy ogre ticklish!"

"No, no," Raymond put on airs. "Please, whatever you do, do not tickle the ogre!" 

Jacob tossed his sword to the floor and lunged at Raymond, tickling him with his tiny, sticky hands.

"Aaahhh," Raymond said. He gently leaned back, and Cheddar wriggled out from under him. "Not the tickling.”

Jacob giggled madly as Cheddar crawled up on top of Raymond and licked his face.

"Not the princess, too," said Raymond. "Ah. I have lost control of the situation. You have vanquished me." 

Jacob fairly wore himself out from laughing. When Raymond gathered him in a hug and kissed his cheek, Jacob squeezed back.

—

Later, after Jacob went down for his nap, Raymond tidied up, and took some time for himself. He let Cheddar into the garden and had a bite to eat, then went upstairs to sleep. 

At some point, Cheddar nosed her way past the door. She had her own little bed in the master bedroom, and Kevin usually did not allow her in their marriage bed. But into their marriage bed she crept, snuggling up close to Raymond, and he was too tired to shoo her away.

"Mmm," he said instead. "Hey, girl." 

He heard Kevin arrive home. Heard him and Jacob in Jacob's room. Heard the door creak open as he knew Kevin, with Jacob on his hip, was looking in on him. 

"Look," Kevin said. “See how much Daddy loves Cheddar?” 

Raymond, still too tired to move or respond or open his eyes, realized that he'd put his arm around Cheddar as she slept beside him.

\--

When Jacob was four years old, he attended a nursery school at the university’s teaching college regularly. He didn't have his world-ending tantrums nearly so often, enjoyed increasingly challenging puzzles and also, to his father's consternation, "pranks." Pranks is in quotation marks because a four-year-old’s prank was, in Raymond’s experience, nonsensical more than anything else. 

Jacob ate dinner with them in the early evenings, though still usually some scaled down kid-sized version of it. He didn't even have a booster seat, just sat in a regular chair (with some rubber attachments on the legs to make it less likely to fall over) like a "big kid." Though watching him climb up and down from it was thoroughly heartbreaking.

"Where do I come from?" he asked one night.

Kevin and Raymond looked at each other. They had a policy, from early on, to answer any questions Jacob had, about anything, as truthfully as possible. In that light, he already knew the basics of _where babies come from_. They hadn't elaborated much further, waiting for him to figure out if he wanted to know more details. 

Hedging his bets, Raymond said, "You come from Brooklyn," which earned him a terse look from Kevin.

Jacob had inherited Kevin’s terse looks, but his version was a dramatic eye-roll worthy of a child ten years his senior. "I _know_ ," he huffed. "Where's my mommy?"

Kevin and Raymond shared another quick, speechless glance. They had talked about this. Frequently. Raymond supposed they'd rather hoped it simply... wouldn't come up?

"Babies come from mommies," Jacob said. "You're both daddies." 

"Yes," said Kevin. "That's correct." He glanced up at Raymond again.

Raymond knew exactly where Karen Peralta was, at that very moment: rehab. It was not her first attempt. 

However, honesty.

"Your mother was very young when she had you," he said. "And she loves you very much, but she was not ready to be a mother." 

"And we wanted a child very badly," Kevin jumped in. "So we adopted you."

"Like we adopted Cheddar?" asked Jacob.

"Yes," said Kevin.

“I didn’t grow in your belly,” Jacob clarified. 

“No,” said Kevin. “But you grew in our hearts.” 

"Okay." Jacob dug back into his food, seemingly satisfied, and not at all touched by Kevin’s poeticism. 

\--

They had discussed whether to spay Cheddar at the outset, and had decided to let her have the chance at one litter. They had gotten so much fulfilment from being parents, after all, why would they deny her the same? 

Raymond didn't notice much of Cheddar’s first heat. It was around the time he was studying for (and passing) the lieutenant’s exam, shortly after his tenure on the night shift. (His consideration was bolstered by some night shift heroics he had performed, with the grudging help of Madeleine Wuntch, the details of which are the stuff of legends and outside the scope of this telling.)

During Cheddar’s second heat, she received a lot of attention from males, so they had to keep her inside. When they did take her out to do her business, and the local boys lost their minds, Raymond realized that the phrase _cat calling_ was entirely inaccurate. 

Kevin said it was best practice to wait for at least two heats to pass. "Then if she has a suitor she's interested in, we'll let her have a chance. And after that, we'll spay her." Kevin had no interest in being some kind of backyard breeder. He wouldn't go out and find a gentleman caller for Cheddar, as there were plenty of well-kept dogs in the neighbourhood. He'd simply only allow the ones that were in good health, and were at least compatible breeds, if not corgis themselves. 

Eventually, on Cheddar's third heat, when Jacob was four years old, she found herself a suitor in a neighbour's dog, Karate, a toy Australian Shepherd. He was a handsome fellow, with dashing black spots and piercing blue eyes, just like Kevin’s. 

Karate was a little younger than Cheddar, and just as playful and careful with Jacob when they encountered each other on walks. At the dog park, Karate and Cheddar had become fast friends, and clearly enjoyed each other’s company. 

When Cheddar’s heat progressed to the appropriate stage, Karate's owner brought him over, and he wasted no time with pleasantries. He was _all over_ her, like the dog he was. 

Luckily this happened while Jacob was napping. The first time Raymond had seen dogs mating, he was about ten years old, and they were street dogs. It was neither romantic or pleasant to witness, and quite honestly, neither was this. 

Cheddar was confirmed to be pregnant within a few weeks, and a month after her relations with Karate, Kevin was able to feel the puppies in her belly. 

"Here, Jacob," he said. "Do you want to feel the puppies? Gently."

Jacob, wide-eyed, palpated Cheddar's belly, while she gazed up at him good-naturedly. "They're moving!" 

"Yes," Kevin said proudly. "I think there's two." 

"How will they get out?" Jacob wondered. 

When she's ready, she'll push them out,” said Kevin. 

"Like a poop?" Jacob talked a lot about poop since he had been toilet trained, as he talked a lot about everything he learned or heard about. 

"No," Kevin said. A brief glance at Raymond. Jacob knew that babies grew inside mommies, but not any other details. 

So, concisely and gently, and using real terms instead of euphemisms, Kevin explained that Cheddar had a pouch inside her tummy called a womb, and a hole called a vagina, and when she was ready, the puppies would come out of her vagina. 

Jacob lost interest pretty early on in this sparse explanation, opting instead to give Cheddar a hug and sing "Puppies, puppies, puppies!" 

\--

Cheddar selected the kitchen pantry as her den, and Kevin, with Jacob’s “help,” constructed a whelping box to keep the puppies contained, utilizing a baby gate behind the door of the pantry. 

As Cheddar’s pregnancy continued and it was no longer feasible for her to go to work with Kevin, and when she needed to be kept away from other dogs, she spent her days with Mrs. Larson. Sonja the cat was less wary of Cheddar now, as Cheddar was no longer the exuberant puppy she once was, and Mrs. Larson reported that once she even helped clean behind Cheddar’s ears for her.

Soon Cheddar was too pregnant to even go next door, so Mrs. Larson would check in on her throughout the day while the family was at work and nursery school. Cheddar, at this point, was not much in the mood for visitors, and liked to stay in her pantry den by herself. 

Kevin observed that Cheddar was very close one night, after taking her temperature. But with his office hours already booked up with appointments, as important thesis check-in deadlines were looming, he could not stay home from work. 

Sure enough, Mrs. Larson called him in the late Friday morning that Cheddar was fully in labour. She knew enough to confidently look after Cheddar during her delivery, but Kevin, he expressed later to Raymond, was wracked with guilt that he was missing it. 

Luckily, by the time Kevin was home, no puppies had actually made an appearance. 

Raymond went to pick up Jacob from daycare.

“Where’s Papa?” Jacob asked curiously as Raymond strapped him into his carseat. The boy was very, very sensitive to changes in routine.

“He is with Cheddar,” said Raymond. He knelt down and caught Jacob’s eye. “The puppies are coming.”

Jacob gasped. “Puppies!!! Puppies!!” He chattered and exclaimed his excitement for the entire drive.

One of the puppies was out when they got home, already cleared of his amniotic sac and placenta. The wriggling, wet, blind thing snuffled around near Cheddar’s teat. For her part, Cheddar lay on her side, panting.

Jacob squealed, running up to the gate in the front of the pantry. “Cheddar!”

“Shh, Jacob,” Kevin shushed, gently drawing the boy back. “Don’t touch. We have to be quiet and give her space.”

“But,” Jacob whined. “Puppies!” 

They sat at the kitchen table, Jacob on Kevin’s knee and straining to get to Cheddar. Kevin and Raymond spoke about their days, and about the potential adoptive families they had found for the puppies. 

Soon the panting turned to more hard labour, however, and the second puppy started to make his appearance.

“Ew!” Jacob cried.

“All right,” said Raymond, taking his son from Kevin. “Let’s go eat a snack in the living room, and then have a bath.” 

“Why aren’t they cuuuuute?” Jacob implored. 

—

The two male puppies were delivered without complication. The next day, when the puppies looked much cleaner after a thorough cleaning from Cheddar, and Cheddar was well-rested and well-fed, their family watched them suckle in their warm little den. Raymond held Jacob to keep him from leaning on the whelping gate, or getting too close. 

“What are their names?” Jacob asked.

Raymond looked over at Kevin. 

“Well, there’s two,” said Kevin. “Why don’t you each name one?”

Jacob gasped in excitement. 

“Very well,” said Raymond. “I shall name mine Richard, after the great Richard Harris.”

Jacob squirmed.

“That’s a good name,” said Kevin. “Which one’s Richard?”

“I don’t know,” said Raymond. “The one on the left.”

“What about yours, Jacob?”

“I don’t know yet!” Jacob cried in a panic. 

It took him a full 24 hours to name his puppy. Raymond was prepared for something ridiculous like Batman or Super Dog, and indeed Jacob did have a very poorly scrawled list of names that included both Batman and Super Dog, and _Jake Junior._ But Kevin and Raymond were surprised when Jacob settled on Daniel Striped Tiger.

“Like Mr. Rogers’ Neighbourhood!” Jacob explained, needlessly. 

Raymond’s mother had dropped off a box of old VHS tapes from his childhood, when she had taped countless hours of Mr. Rogers and other children’s shows. He later utilized these tapes when looking after Debbie, in the wake of their father’s death, when their mother was working and studying long hours. He hadn’t realized Her Honour had kept them, until she dropped them off.

They had to buy a VCR, and the whole show was very slow for Jacob, but he _adored_ the parts with Daniel Striped Tiger. “Papaaaa,” he’d often whine, or “Daaadddyy! Go to the cat!” 

“All right then,” said Kevin. “A dog named after a cat. Daniel it is.” 

—

The puppies cried a lot until they got the temperature in the pantry just right, by adjusting the thermostat and the amount of time they left the pantry door wide open.

"Did I cry a lot?" Jacob inquired. 

"You cried like the dickens," said Raymond, which made Jacob laugh. 

They spent a lot of time those first few days just watching the puppies, before it was safe for humans to touch them. 

"Did I do that with my mommy?" Jacob asked. Richard and Daniel were both enthusiastically suckling, as Cheddar licked them clean. 

"Yes," said Raymond. "I believe so." He actually didn't know, but it felt like an inconsequential detail. Jacob's question seemed a bit bigger than wanting to know the bare facts, but Raymond wasn't entirely sure in what way. 

Jacob shifted a bit, and then leaned against Raymond for a cuddle. "Will she miss her puppies when they go?" He’d heard Raymond and Kevin speak often about the puppies’ forever homes. 

“I am honestly not sure," said Raymond. "Maybe a little. But her puppies will be grown up. When babies grow up, they move away from their parents and to their own families."

Jacob seemed to consider this. "I don't wanna move 'way," he declared. 

Raymond couldn't help a wry smile. "Well that won't be for many, many years. You're still very small."

"No 'm not," Jacob pouted. Lately he had been insisting very loudly that he was a _big kid_. 

Raymond didn't argue. 

—

The puppies grew up regrettably fast. They were exceedingly beautiful puppies, a perfect blend of Cheddar’s corgi shape— with her quizzical face, triangular ears and exquisitely fluffy bottom— and Karate’s dashing white coat with black splotches and dots, and his piercing blue eyes. 

Jacob spent a lot of time with Richard and Dan. Ever mindful of Kevin's instructions, he was unceasingly gentle and considerate of them. Any issues he might have had sharing or taking turns with other children seemed nonexistent now, as the puppies’ needs always came first, even if it was only after a gentle reminder from his fathers. Jacob would often crawl around with them on the floor, mimicking their whining and barking, and occasionally meowing for some reason. He even tried to get into their crates with them, but Kevin soon put a stop to that.

—

Richard and Dan started getting vaccinated at six weeks, so they could be in the garden, and Sonja could come over and tentatively sniff at them. 

Cheddar was excited to see her feline friend after her maternity leave, and so was Jacob. But Sonja, who wasn't exactly a spring chicken herself at this point, didn't have much time for them. She leapt back up on the garden fence, and watched the puppies and Jacob playing in the garden. Most afternoons when they were outside, she would be up there, watching them, her tail gently swishing back and forth. 

—

Around the same time as Sonja’s visits resumed, Karate’s owner brought him over. This was to start a cautious puppy socialization, but Karate didn't seem interested in them. He might've been able to tell by smell that they were his offspring, but they were still too little for boisterous play, and Cheddar still too tired and watchful of her puppies for much roughhousing with Karate. He seemed put out at this turn of events, and wasn’t interested in adjusting his behaviour.

(Later, after Cheddar was spayed, Karate lost all interest in her wholesale. At the dog park he would instead sniff around some other basic bitch. Typical straight man, thought Raymond.) 

\-- 

Kevin opted to keep the puppies for ten weeks instead of eight. It was a fine line, he said, between keeping them too briefly and failing to socialize them, but their father was a toy breed, and they tended to do better with some more time with mother.

"But I'll listen to Cheddar, as well," he said. "Surely she'll have something to say about the matter."

Since the puppies had been born, they had been looking for prospective families for them. Raymond said he would inquire at work, but soon found himself judging everybody he spoke to about the puppies and finding them wanting. Puppies had, at first, been an abstract idea, a fact of biology that would happen to Cheddar eventually. But now that the puppies were here, and he had held them in his arms and felt their warmth, and had seen Jacob delightedly chase after them in the garden, he was hesitant to send them away. He knew that the whole point of having puppies was to give them away, but he did not find himself eager to do it. 

Kevin was more pragmatic, even while his love for dogs had always been greater and more obvious than Raymond's. "It will hurt, certainly," he said. "But they can't stay here. We don't have room for three dogs, and I have a feeling Cheddar is going to start resenting them. She's used to being the centre of attention. After Jacob, of course." 

Through his extensive network of dog people, Kevin found a suitable prospective family interested in adopting the unusual breed of Australian Shephard and Corgi. It was a couple with one child about Jacob's age, who were experienced with dogs, and had a young adult dog of indeterminate mutt background who they thought would be a good "mentor" to a puppy. 

Plus, they had a cousin upstate who was interested as well, which meant they would take both puppies and deliver one upstate for them. Jacob, regardless of Kevin’s explanations, was insistent that the puppies should stay together, and this cousin solution seemed to placate him. (Though quietly, Raymond doubted that the upstate cousins would be seeing the city cousins often enough for the puppies to actually remember each other.) 

Mr. Boyle brought over the dog, Molly, and his young son, Charles, to meet the puppies before deciding. Boyle was a fairly doughy and charmless man, and not much of a conversationalist. But he was certainly dog competent, and very dog knowledgeable. He even made his own dog food, which Kevin really liked. 

They talked for an interminably long time about how Mr. Boyle sourced organic organ meats at the farmer’s market for his homemade dog foods. “Of course I use them myself, too! Little Chuckie loves liver.” 

Molly was a well-trained dog who was friendly and deferential to Cheddar in her home territory. She took great interest in the puppies, and was very gentle with them. 

It certainly didn't hurt that Charles and Jacob got along so well, either. 

At this point, after learning to share and play better with other children, Jacob had many "friends" at his daycare. But they were really just people he talked to every day, much in the same way a colleague at work would be one's "friend." 

Raymond, of course, couldn't remember being four years old, but he never had anything like a childhood "best" friend. He made friends slowly and rarely and, honestly, didn't often feel the need to do it. He didn't care to recall if he ever felt left out or alienated, and he did not feel that this lack of childhood friends hurt his general outcome. 

Jacob, on the other hand, thrived off interactions with other children, and actively sought them out, which was one of the reasons his previous problems with collaborative play caused him such distress. He would get so lonely if forced to play by himself. 

When at the playground, or any other function with strange children, he made it a point to try and talk to every child there, which was, as far as Raymond knew, not exactly normal for a child his age. He was certainly not trying to do it out of kindness or politeness. He simply couldn't fathom the idea of being around another child and _not_ playing with them. It was hard for him to comprehend when other children would ignore him and wander away, though it only took once or twice for his fathers to tell him to leave another child alone for Jacob to learn to respect their boundaries. 

Jacob had never met another pre-schooler as easily charmed and biddable as Charles. He let Jacob show him the puppies, and the garden, and Sonja, and his toys, often exclaiming "Wow!" with genuine, wide-eyed wonder. He probably got in about three words to Jacob's several dozen, but he was smiling the entire time. 

Jacob bossed him about how to play with the puppies. Charles loved it, plopping himself down on the grass and letting the puppies crawl all over him and lick him, laughing. “Daddy!” he cried. “They like me!”

So it was a done deal, and the Boyles would take the puppies.

"We can't wait!" Mr. Boyle exclaimed. "Bye, Dickie! Bye, Danny! Bye, Jakey!"

"Bye!" Charles echoed, skipping out after his dad. 

The giddiness of making a new friend soon wore off for Jacob. He seemed sad later, sitting with Cheddar and the puppies and frowning. 

Kevin gave him a hug. "What's wrong, darling?"

Jacob sniffled. He made a few sounds like he did when he wanted to express something but didn't have the words yet. 

"Can they stay?" he finally asked.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," said Kevin. "But they're growing up."

Jacob struggled with his words again. 

Kevin picked Jacob up and cuddled him.

"I love puppies," Jacob said. "Puppies love Cheddar." Then, inexplicably, he burst into tears. 

It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Kevin to soothe Jacob, while Raymond tidied the kitchen, and the puppies' den. Afterwards, Jacob was all cried out, and went to sleep for a long nap. 

\-- 

As time went on, Cheddar indeed had feelings about the puppies leaving.

Motherly fulfillment had apparently worn off, and she lost interest in them. They had been weaned off her teat for over a month, and were getting fairly large. They monopolized garden time, and play time, and lap time, and Jacob time. When right on the eve of their tenth week, Cheddar snapped at them, and they went to find refuge in their own crates, Kevin said it was time to say goodbye. 

Jacob handled it with grace. He had been prepared to say goodbye, and the morning they were expected to go, he spent a lot of time doing it, holding either Richard or Dan close in succession and repeating “Goodbye, I love you!” over and over.

Mr. Boyle came by during the day, when Raymond took a long lunch break to return home and hand off the puppies. Jacob was at daycare.

When Jacob came home, he cried as hard as he had when he first arrived, even though he had known that morning that the puppies were leaving. 

Cheddar herself seemed perfectly fine after the puppies were gone. She walked around sniffing a lot, perhaps still processing what had happened, but she also seemed happy to have all the attention back to herself. If anything, she seemed to be the one comforting Jacob, rubbing her head affectionately against him, and letting him cry into her fur.

“She misses them,” he sobbed. 

—

Jacob didn't ask about mothers again for quite some time.


End file.
